The Shard's of Destiny
by RandomAction
Summary: Updating within two weeks: 1/1/13 Based on the Eberron campaign setting of the Dungeons and Dragons rpg. This is the story of a half drow, who is in search of his father and his father's tribe. Along the way he finds more than he barginned for. Please read & review.
1. Chapter 1

Let me start by saying I do not own Eberron, that is a creation of Mr. Baker and the people at Wizards of the Coast. (Thanks for the games, guys.) Second, these are my character. If by any chance they resemble anyone, famous or not, this is by accident and was not intended. Third, I write in my spare time, so updates will be slow, unless I have some time off from work then expect them a little faster. Finally, please read and review.

******** used for time-skips/flashbacks

-End Section- states end of story section

Italics are used for all speach and wrapped: "_Like this."_

Inner thoughts are Italiced and wrapped: _~Like so.~_

As per the rules, this is rated **M. **I know that there isn't much at this point to warrant such labeling, but there will be in later chapters.

The Shard's of Destiny

Prologue

The light of three moons spill upon the blue-black waters. The soft slosh and splash of water could not muffle the sounds of the ship bumping into the wooden dock as it swayed with the tidal currents. Every now and then a wave crashes onto the nearby beach sending a salty spray into the air.

In a dock-side tavern, voices can be heard as they sing a bawdy sailing song about beautiful naked women and the forgotten treasures of the deep. After each pause in the chorus, they erupt in a cheer for another round. The lights of the building cast shadows onto the nearby warehouses.

A large cloud passes overhead casting the docks into complete darkness. As it passes by, a lone figure can be seen staggering out of a nearby alleyway to crash into a stack of crates. Groaning in pain, the figure rises and continues on it's way into the next alley. Passing through the light coming from a window, the figure can be seen briefly.

He wears worn and faded clothing. One gloved hand clutches his side in an attempt to staunch the ever widening reddish stain at his side. Pausing to lean on a nearby barrel, he looks behind him for any signs of pursuit by his attackers. The light of the moons brighten slightly, causing his stark white hair to glow eerily. A small goatee frames the outline of his mouth. His dusky hued skin is coated in perspiration. His azure colored eyes wince in pain with each breath he takes.

_I think I killed one of them, but there are three more._

Looking at his side he quickly examines his wounds. A slight purplish pucker around the wound worries him.

_I need help. The blood won't stop. Bastard must have poisoned his blade. Gods above, it feels as though fire is burning through my veins and my vision is fading._

A scrape of a foot against wood alerts him to their presence. Lurching back to his feet, he staggers down the alley into the deeper shadows. Looking back he sees three figures detach from the shadows and come running across the wooden planks. The moon light glistens off of drawn blades, as a voice in his head tells him that he will not escape. A small grin urges it way across his face. It's not the first time he has had those thoughts and probably not the last, he hopes.

Hissing in pain, he staggers into a run down the alley. Each breath is labored and painful. His vision begins to darken more as a memory of better times comes back to him.

**********Flashback**********

A fine mist hangs in the air, barely dulling the natural beauty of the mountains. The smell of pine gives the air a clean sent. The dawn light shines down gently kissing the dew covered plants. The sound of a small creek flowing down the hill-side and the chirping of early birds break the stillness of the scene.

Near the side of a large out-cropping of stones is a small cabin. The little shack is made of fitted stones and sits cozily near the stream. The thatched roof is covered in green moss and small tendrils of smoke climb from the chimney to disappear into the misty blanket.

As the door slowly opens, a young woman can be seen coming out. Her fine blonde hair, which seems to glow in the meager light, frames a care-worn face. Her simple dress, with many patches, clings to her tightly. In her hand is a small bucket as she walks over and fills it from the bubbling brook.

Turning back to the cabin, she pauses to see a small dusky skinned child of maybe five years with unkempt white hair, standing in the doorway. His little hands rub the sleep from his eyes as he looks to her. They both smile, her's full of bitter-sweet sadness and his filled with unconditional love. He quickly runs over to her and leaps into her arms. as she drops the bucket. His little arms squeeze her tightly as she begins to twirl and hums a simple tune. The boy begins to laugh loudly as they spin.

**********Flashback**********

The impact of the cobblestones jar him back into reality. Rolling to his back, he glances at one of the moons above. The pain in his side is becoming unbearable, as his breath becomes rapid and shallow. Weakly, he starts crawling. Near the mouth of the alley, his vision is all but gone and the only sound in his ears is his labored breath. His body has become cold and numb from lying on the cobblestones, the poison or both.

He doesn't feel the large pair of hands that grasp him around the arms, nor does he hear the voice that urges him to hold on to life. His world is in total blackness and as his breathing begins to slow down. From somewhere in the coming darkness, he hears the echoes of a fading child's laughter.

-End section-

Two figures were walking down the cobble-stone street. As they passed under the light of the mage-lamps, they could be seen more clearly. Both were made of metal, stone and wood. Passers-by would know them as warforged. Construct beings who were made for the sole purpose of fighting in the Last War. After the end of the war, they were granted their freedom and allowed to live their own lives. Freedom was a new concept for the warforged and many failed to understand the significance of this right. Most sold their services into positions being bodyguards, while others roamed the lands searching for a purpose in this new world of peace.

The taller and by far the biggest of the two, standing around six foot seven, it's 'skin' was the color of dark gun-metal grey. Small spikes lifted from it's shoulders and were also seen on the backs of it's three fingered hands. Each piece of it's armored body seemed to flow togethor showing little or no seems. A symbol was etched into surface of it's forehead and chest. A soul-gem is clearly seen in it's chest, the color of the gem matched it's eyes, a soft purple that seemed to be filled with patience. At it's waist was a large spiked morningstar that was held in place by a leather strap and it swung freely with each step. Many pouches were bound to the leather belt it wore around it waist. On it's back was a thick metal shield engraved with the holy symbol of Boldrei, goddess of communities and patron of the hearth.

The companion that walked beside it was made roughy the same way. Where one's body was heavy and dull colored, this one's was slimmer and made of blueish white metal known as mithral. This one was shorter than it's counterpart, barely reaching six foot in height. It carried a large great-sword sheathed on it's back. The hilt of the blade could be seen sticking out from under the dark green cloak it wore. A pair of custom dark leather boots, ending at the knee, and a wide leather belt with numerous pouches was worn around the waist. The markings on the chest and forehead were mising on this one. It's soul-gem and eyes glowed with a fierce blue, those looking into it's 'eyes' would swear they saw great intelligence radiating from within. This one had several scratches and little dents over it's body, giving testament to many battles fought and won.

_"Listen Syxx. We all have a soul. What we do with it decides the course of our life and how other look upon us.", _said the larger of the two in a deep cultured voice.

Sighing as if this conversation has come up before, the other replies in a hollow voice, _"Must we start this up again? Look Symbol, no disrespect to your beliefs, but we were created not born. By what right do we claim to a soul?"_

_"By the right that we are free to choose. When you are in battle, do you not feel saddened by the loss of a comrade when they die?"_, the one named Symbol asked.

_"It is more liken to disappointment than sadness. But that is from the loss of the skills they brought to the squad and the possible failure of the group's mission, not to the loss of just one individual.", _Syxx stated.

_"So you are saying that if, shall we say, Ravanna was killed in an attack. You would not feel saddened by her loss? Or that you wouldn't feel anger towards the one who killed her?"_, asked Symbol.

_"First off, that is a bad example. Secondly, I would not feel sad that she died, if fact I doubt that I would feel anything other than irritation since I must make new plans based around the act she is no longer an active ally. Neither would I personally seek revenge against her slayer, because she rarely listens to any plan and she has a severe dilike to following orders given to her by anyone other than the Captain."_

_"She listens to me, but only because I listen to her and act as a friend. You treat her and almost everyone else as piece that you can move on a board game. Giving the proper respect to others and having compassion for their feelings will teach you that you do have a soul and it can be a source of strength."_, Symbol retorted.

_"Listen. When I first came into being, there was no divine light, no flash of inspiration, no nothing, but a voice commanding me to stand and move off to the side and join the rest of the squadron. My first memory is of the Forgewright telling me that I was a tool for war and nothing else. Since then I have fought, killed and been almost destroyed and through it all there has been no deity, divine spirit or holy power that has aided, repaired or given me strength."_, explained Syxx.

_"They never have helped you because you have never asked. When I call upon Boldrei to heal the sick and injured, I feel her presence inside of me. It is like a shard of her spirit joins with me in ading of my duties. If I was to put a word to this feeling, it would be...Look."_

_"What? What kind of feeling is Look?", _asked the smaller warforged.

_"No dammit, look."_, said Symbol while pointing to an alley.

A dusky grey hand can be seen. It twitches and curls as if in pain. Moving closer to the alley, they see that the hand belongs to a serverly wounded man, who is lying on the cold cobble-stone ground. He clothes are matted with blood and his breathing is shallow. Each breathe is a wheezing laborous ordeal. Walking over to the fallen man, Symbol kneels down and puts a hand to the man's chest. He begins to mutter a spell of healing, when his partner hisses in warning. Looking up, he sees that there are three other in the alley with them. One is bleeding from a wound in his shoulder, but otherwise he is unhurt. The other two draw wicked looking daggers and look back to the wounded leader.

_"Stay away from him, you rusted bucket of slag! This bastard owes me and I will have my revenge!"_, stated the wounded man.

_"Well, I was going to just leave this alone, but after being called 'slag' I think I have changed my mind. Symbol, heal the guy up and I'll take care of these three fools."_,explained Syxx.

The warforged drew the greatsword from his back. The blade glistened in the light cast from the mage-lamps, as if it was soaked in some kind of liquid. Drops of the fluid fell unto the ground and began to sizzle. An acrid smell filled the air as the tiny droplets started eating away at the stone. The glow of the warforged's eyes increased as it started to move towards the three.

Glancing back to their leader, who just gives a nod, the two men charge the sword weilding foe. They try to come at it from different angles hoping to confuse or at least catch it between them. The warforged said a word in the tongue of the dragons, this caused his sword blade to begin arcing off in electrical energy. With a quick feint to it's left, it pivoted to the right and the greatsword cleaved through the feeble defense of the attacker. The greatsword cleaved through steel and into the chest of the man, it continued on its way passing completely through and out of the other side. Using the blade's momentum, Syxx spun in a complete circle and brought the blade up before the startled attacker. Slowly, the cleaved man, fell to his knees. The jarring impact caused half of the body to tumble to the side onto the ground. Blood began pouring unto the cobblestones.

The other attacker paused long enough for the horror to show clearly upon his face. Turning quickly, he began to run towards his leader. With another command, the warforged extended his hand and a light blue ray of light shot out, striking the fleeing man in the back. A frost began to cover him from head to toe and his slowed his running to a stop. He was frozed in mid-step. Syxx looked back toward the leader only to see him gone. Sighing in frustration, the warforged walked over and hit the man in the back of the head, knocking him cold.

_"This one is for the guardsmen, then. How is he, Symbol?"_, asked Syxx as he returned to the alley entrance while sheathing his sword.

_"No good. He has lost a lot of blood and he has been poisoned. I have healed him as much as I could, but I need to get him to the ship in order to remove the poison from his system. Quick, come here and help me lift him."_

_"No. I think that this is a bad idea. Who-ever is after him will only come after us to get to him. I am not wanting to bring any more danger to the ship or the Captain than we already have by interfering in a fight between a bunch of thieves."_

_"How do you know this man is a thief? Does your piercing insight give you the ability to know that he is?"_, asked Symbol.

_"No, but any fool can see that he is not just a common person either. Come on Symbol, does the white hair and dark colored skin not tell you what he is? What about those pointy ears, eh? He is a drow and they are a dangerous bunch, not to be trusted."_

_"The same has been said of us Warforged, or have you forgotten how we have been treated since the Last War? Also, look at his face. There is no way a full-blooded elf, even a drow, could grow facial hair. So either you help me or not, but this man is going back to the ship."_

Sighing loudly, Syxx walked over and helped in lifting the unconcious man to Symbol's shoulders. After he was settled into place, Symbol turned and began walking back to the ship. To where he could heal the wounded man fully. Syxx, after shaking his head in disbelief, followed his emotion driven partner.

_"I still say this is a bad idea."_

Looking at his smaller friend, Symbol laughed and continued on. Hoping that the spikes on his body wouldn't hurt the wounded drowling any more than he was.


	2. Chapter 2

Kel'vek's Tale chapter 2

He awoke with a start. His eyes searching the dark room, trying to remember where he was. Rising to a sitting position, he relys on his senses to tell him where he is. His feet touch the polished wood of the floor and a slight tingle tells him that magic has been infused into the grain to make it stronger. He pauses his breathing to listen, a distant yet powerful hum is coming from outside of his room.

Standing, he feels a burning sensation in his side. Using his finger to check, he finds that he has been bandaged and his wound has been stitched closed. Letting out a hissing breath, he walks over to the nearby lamp and lights it. The warm glow of the candle fills the room chasing away the shadows. Looking around, his eyes take in the room. It is all wooden, from the floor to the walls and the low cieling with it's beams running accross.

Glancing around he finds his bloody clothes in a pile in a nearby corner. Limping over, he dresses himself as quickly as possible. After tugging on his boots, he walks over to the window. Opening the rounded portal, a small breeze flows into the room. The smell of sea salt stings his nostrils, as he peeks out the window.

It is dark outside. Five moons glow cheerfully in the distance, their brightness not enough to lighten up the area. He looks towards the bottom of the ship, but instead of seeing water, he is met with a fine mist that shrouds the ship a few feet below his window.

_Am I at sea?_

Walking over to the door, he takes the handle and gives it a twist. The door swing open with barely a sound.

_Well maintained, at least._

Stepping out of the room he finds himself in a long corridor. Several doors line the hallway, which leads up to a set of stairs. Moving slowly down the hall, he pauses at each door to listen for sounds from the inside. Hearing none, he continues on until he reaches the stairs. Taking a deep breath, he begins to climb up. As he nears the top he can see the starry sky above. Peeking his head out of the frame work, he quickly looks around and sucks in his breathe.

The humming sound earlier came from the twin fiery rings that surround the ship. Their flames swirl and dance, casting a flickering light about the deck. As he stepped onto the deck, his eyes allowed him to see the construct more clearly. Walking over to the nearest rail, he ran his fingers down the delicate scroll and ivy work that was carved into the wood. Each piece was crafted to match and flow into the next, giving the illusion of a single piece.

_This has to be elven craftsmanship. Only elves can create..._

Looking over the railing he catches a glimpse of the space beyond the ship. What he took as fog before became clear to him now. The grey mist was clouds and the light of the moons caused them to glow with a faint silvery radiance. He stood transfixed as the answer came to him. His voice squeaked as he stated the oblivious.

_"I'm on a fucking airship!"_

As his mind whirled at those thoughts, he never heard the foot steps behind him. Nor did he notice that he was no longer along on the deck of the airship. He turned around to return to his cabin and that is when he saw the man. Not a man, but a half-elf. In the dim light of the moons, he noticed that he was wearing fine clothing made from glimmer weave. His breeches and vest were dyed a dark blue, the shirt he wore was billowed in the sleeves. A long silken cape, the color of midnight, and a wide brimmed hat, which had the brim folded on each side coming together into a point in the front. His face was smooth and tanned from the sun. Long scarlet colored hair fell down past his shoulders and was bunched in a tail by a piece of leather. Strangely, his eyes weren't the normal green of a half-elf, they were a deep shade of grey and seemed to catch all with their gaze. The strange cleared his throat and began to speak, the rich baritone of his voice carried easily in the night

_"Well, it seem that you are finally awake. Symbol was worried when he returned to your room and found you gone. So, what do you think of my ship?", he asked._

_"I have no words to describe it. Tell me, is this really an airship?",_ he replied.

_"Yes it is. The Emerald Raven, be her name. One of the fastest ships that House Lyrandar has commissioned. It was a joint effort of Zilargo, Lyrandar and the Wayfinder Foundation. Paid for by yours truely."_, the half elf says with a sense of pride and confidence.

_"Strange that those three organizations would come together in such a way."_

_"Oh, where are my manners. Call me Marcus Elgrest, Captain of the Emerald Raven, scion of House Lyrandar and former lieutenant colonel of Aundairian navy, at your service.", _he says with a deep bow.

_"Well met sir, my name is Veldryn d'Koverius.", _replies the dusky skinned man.

_"So, since you are feeling better shall we retire to my quarters for a glass of Bluevine and an explanation of why members of my crew found you laying near death in a gutter in Stormreach?"_

Sighing aloud, Veldryn smiles and states, _"My tale will take more than a glass, better make that two or maybe three."_

_"Well then, I guess we should get started, eh? Oh, sorry I forgot something."_, Marcus stops and begins a short arcane chant, his hands glow in the darkness. As he finishes, a small bubble of light floats in front of him.

_"Symbol, your patient is with me in my cabin. At your first opportunity report to me and you can futhur examine his injuries."_, he says.

The bubble flashes and quickly speeds off in the direction of the warforged. Clearing his throat, Marcus looks back to Veldryn and says, _"Be glad I found you and not Syxx. He takes the defense of the ship to a, sometimes, unwanted extreme. Well now, shall we go?"_

Inside the cabin was as well crafted as the rest of the ship. A small fireplace, an unique feature onboard an airship, was set into the corner. Deep in the heart of the flames was a small crystal shard. A round table was in the center of the room, it was half covered in charts and maps. Three chairs were placed around the table, each had a small cushion in the seat. In the back of the room was a small door, presumedly were the captain slept, beside of a small cabinet filled with bottle and glasses. On each wall were works of art from all over the five nations.

Veldryn walked over to the table and sat down. He watched as the captain walked over and ran his finger across the bottles, until he found the correct one. Sliding a short wooden lock bar to the side, he took out the bottle and two glasses. Replacing the bar, he moved to the table and set the glasses down. After fighting with the cork, he pours the light blue liquor into each one. Replacing the stopper, he sets the bottle down onto the table and removes his hat, placing it onto the soft rise of the chair beside him.

_"To fallen Cyre, may she rise from her ashes!", _raising his glass.

Veldryn returns the gesture and swallows a bit of the liquid. Setting it down, he looks up at Marcus, waiting for the beginning of the many questions he would have. He notices that the captain had swallowed his drink in one gulp and was refilling his glass. Here he took a small sip and leaned back in his chair.

_"So, where should I begin? Tell me your full name, please? Your parentage, I can easily tell and know that I have no prejudice against any of your people. The drow of the jungle and I have had several dealings before and I find they have a shrewd sense of buisness.", _Marcus started.

Veldryn raised his hand and said, _"First off, I am called Veldryn d'Tauran'ar and I am not a drow. My father was, but my mother was a human. So, I am a half breed, like you I presume."_

_"A half-breed? I have never heard of that before, tell me are your abilities similar to your full-blooded kin?"_

_"Well, I do share some traits, I have been told. As to my 'breed', they are a few of us. Not many, mind you, since most drow either refuse to bed anything other than their own kind or many females refuse too go outside the norm, so to speak. However my mother was different. She came from Sharn and was known as a talented scout during the Last War, in the service of Breland. After the war, she came to Stormreach to start a buisness in selling herbs and medicines. She met my father on a trading mission she took into the jungles. I am a little fuzzy on the details, but I was told that she became a member of the tribe and took a husband."_

_"So was you born into the tribe? Was happened to your father then?", _asked Marcus.

_"Well, during a skirmish with another tribe, he was taken prisoner. She escaped back to Stormreach and even though she funded many rescue parties, he was never found. The tribe, thinking that she was cursed, refused to acknowledge her as a member anymore and sent word that she should avoid them for the rest of her life. A few weeks later, she discovered that she was pregnant with me."_

_"A sad tale it seems. Is she still alive, now? I would like to meet a woman with such strength to survive on her own in that rowdy city."_

_"No, she passed away when I was twelve. I lived on the streets of Stormreach afterwards. There is not too many who would take in a drowling child.", _he answered.

Before Marcus could begin again, a knock came at the door. Without getting up, he called out, _"Enter."_

As the door opened, Veldryn could see a large armored figure standing in the doorway. A pair of glowing crystal eyes pulsed breifly and then the warforged entered the room. Veldryn looked into the eyes of the 'forged and he was strangely beginning to feel at peace. Thinking it some kind of enchantment, he kept his features and voice nuetral.

_"Veldryn, may I introduce our resident cleric, Symbol.", _stated Marcus.

_"Cleric! This is the first I have heard of this.", _looking skeptical at the warforged cleric Veldryn studies it in greater detail. _Heavily armored, adamant? Close combat judging by the spikes and oversized shield. Divine abilities would make the thing a dangerous opponent. Strange that this one seems to be in perfect condition, nary a scratch on it anywhere. _

The warforged walked over to the seated half-drow. It's soul gem pulsed again as it seemed to study him intently. In a commanding voice, Symbol began questioning the dark skinned man.

_"Feeling better now are we? Your midriff injuries, how do they feel? Any tearing of the stitches or swollenness arround the wound? Here lift up your shirt."_

_"Now, now Symbol. You call check on him later, allow him to enjoy his glass."_

Glancing back to the doorway, Marcus noticed another figure standing there. This one of his other warforged crewman, Syxx, master at arms aboard the Raven and known to take his job very seriously. He needed to cut him off before he started interrogating the half-drow, but he wasn't quick enough.

_"You were confined to quarters. You are not a member of the crew and not allowed to wander the ship without an escort at all times. Judging by your actions, it may deem nessesary to treat you as a spy and wither confine you to the brigg or toss you off the ship.", _this warforged's voice was cold and mechanical. The typical sound they were known to make.

Veldryn stared hard the the construct. He noticed this one was in rough condition. Small dents and scratches could be seen all over it's frame. The blue-silver metal bespoke of mythril in it's construction. A large greatsword was strapped to it's back and even though it made no threateding gestures to him, it crossed it's arms and stared deeply at him, The crystals glowed a deeper azure the longer he took in answering the forged. A slow sly smile crossed his lips as a minute passed, then two. He never broke his stare with the construct.

_"Syxx, this man is injured and under the healer's care. I am sure that he will be able to give you some answers later, after he has rested fully.",_ interupted Marcus as the contest had continued on well into five minutes.

"_Sir.", _barked the one called Syxx. Before turning to leave, it flashed a look filled with annoyance at the drow spawn.

Symbol stood and nodded to the ship's captain. With a glance and a reminder that it would tend to him later, the large 'forged left the cabin closing the door behind it.

_"Welcome to the ship, Veldryn.", _stated the well dressed half-elf raising a glass in toast.


End file.
